Time Heals
by scarylolita
Summary: Stan and Kyle had a falling out. Years later, when Stan's daughter starts school, he is less than thrilled upon finding out her teacher is a certain smug daywalker. Kyan & Kebe.
1. Out of sight

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**This is going to be a 2shot, all in Stan's POV. Sorry a couple parts might be confusing because there are two girls named Wendy. Anyway, enjoy~ I'll post the second part next week. **

* * *

**1.**

Everyone thought it was a bad idea when me and Wendy got engaged. Hell, there were times when I even had doubts. We were young and when it came to passion, we had little logic and reason. We were only in high school, but we were so in love it didn't matter what anyone else thought. We were eighteen when we got married. It was a small ceremony, with only close family and friends. Kyle was my best man. He had on a big grin, even though he wasn't so sure getting married at eighteen was the smartest plan.

I cried when I found out she was pregnant – they were mostly tears of fear. We were still only eighteen, just graduated from high school and newly married. I wasn't planning on thinking about children for at least a few more years, but things change when you least expect.

I'm twenty-three now. I don't regret getting married to Wendy. Even today, I love her. Our wedding was the best day of my life, her funeral was the worst. She died minutes after giving birth. Our baby was the last thing she saw and she smiled.

Mrs. Testaburger was in the room with me. She started screaming when the monitor flat-lined. There was so much blood. I knew something bad would happen. The doctors were so frantic. No one knew what went wrong. I was shaking. I took a step back and fell on my ass. I don't even remember getting up. I just remember that my parents took me to the family house. They didn't want me to go home to an empty apartment after something so horrible. My dad drove and my mom sat in the back seat with me, holding me tight as if she expected me to fall apart then and there. I didn't fall apart. I don't think I even cried that night, though I hardly remember. It hurts to remember, so I just don't.

Wendy's death affected everyone. Bebe was so heartbroken that her relationship with Kyle fell apart. They broke up shortly after. My relationship with Kyle fell apart, too. In a way, I broke up with him as well. We're no longer best friends. We're no longer friends. While I stayed in South Park, he went off to university with Kenny and Cartman. They came home for the funeral, offering me sympathies. I completely lost it when they lowered the casket. It's like it finally sank in that she was gone and I wouldn't see her again. My _friends_ returned to university after the funeral and it's almost as if by leaving South Park, they could escape all the bad memories. They could leave them behind. They left me behind, as well… and there's a large part of me that hates and spites them for it.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to be a father. I didn't know how to keep being a friend, or a son, or any of that. When Wendy died, a piece of me died with her – the most important piece. Now I just feel hollow when I should feel whole. I just keep reminding myself that I was lucky to have had any time with her at all.

Kyle, Kenny and Cartman have been back in South Park for a few months. It's the end of summer now and they're all finished school. I haven't seen them, but Bebe told me. She said that she had dinner with Kyle a couple weeks ago, purely as friends. They tied up loose ends and rekindled their relationship in the form of a new friendship. I told her I was happy for her, but that was where the conversation ended. That's what I like about Bebe, she doesn't let things linger. She knows when to stop talking. She reads me like a book, which is nice because I'm not one for talking much these days.

"I'm home," I call after unlocking my apartment door and walking inside. It's a modest two-bedroom apartment. It's not lavish in any way, but it's quaint and perfect for a single father.

Bebe is there with an ever-present sympathetic smile. "How was work?" she asks.

"Fine," I tell her. "Thanks for babysitting."

She shakes her head and her blond curls bounce up and down. "You know it's never a problem."

"Hello, sweetheart," I coo at my daughter, who gives me a big, silly grin in return. She is the spitting image of her mother. We had discussed many possible names, but I knew that the right thing to do would be to name her after her mom. Wendy.

"We had supper," Bebe says to me. "She had a nap about four hours ago."

I turn to her and smile, "Great. Thanks a lot, really."

She waves a dismissive hand. "It's my pleasure, truly. Don't hesitate to give me a shout when you need a last minute babysitter. I'm only down the hall."

"You're the best," I tell her. "Really."

"I know," she grins playfully before sobering. "Hey, a bunch of us are meeting up at Token and Nichole's new house for a bit of a housewarming party. Do you want to join us? He told me to ask you."

I shake my head.

"Come on, Stan," she says, trying to convince me to go.

I shake my head again. "I've got my hands full." Not that I mind it. I quite enjoy it. I live for it.

"Bring your little girl…" Bebe suggests. "Kyle will be there. Kenny and Eric, too. Don't you want to see your old friends?"

I sneer at the mention of them. "Not tonight, Bebe," I say, trying not to let my distaste show.

"It's been five years, Stan…" she mentions carefully. "You're far too young to be a widower forever. You need to get out and meet people… your friends miss you."

"They're not my friends."

"They are!" she insists.

I could tell her that five years isn't enough time. I could tell her that ten years might not be enough time either. I could tell her that watching the person you're in love with bleed to death and die is worse than any physical pain… but I don't say that. Instead, I simply shrug my shoulders in a careless gesture. "I prefer to stay inside."

"Your daughter is five years old now," Bebe reasons. "She needs to be around people. You can't just keep her inside all day every day. It isn't healthy."

I close my eyes. "Not tonight, Bebe."

She relents sadly and says, "Fine."

**2.**

Summer break is over and Wendy starts school today. It's her first day and the morning is frantic. I get her ready, putting her school supplies in her purple backpack and making her something to eat. Bebe comes with me to drop her off. After a long hug and many photos, I send her off. I let out a sigh, watching all the children pile through the doors.

"She'll be fine," Bebe assures me, looking through the files on her digital camera. She works in a photo studio. She mostly takes family portraits, but she's done a few weddings and thanks to her, me and Wendy have got quite a few photo albums full of nice memories. She makes sure to document everything.

"It's funny," I say. "When I was young, I'd make fun of my parents for getting so sentimental and emotional about this kind of thing… but I get it now."

Bebe smiles softly. "Yeah, she's growing up pretty fast, isn't she?"

I nod. It feels strange. Time really does fly.

Since I work 9-5 from Monday to Friday, I can't be there to pick Wendy up after school. It makes me kind of sad, since it's her first day, but Bebe will be there for her. I think I'd honestly die without Bebe around. She's the best friend a person could ask for, I mean it. She keeps me on my feet and calls me out when I'm being too moody.

Around 2:30, Bebe shoots me a text telling me that Wendy seems in good spirits. That's a good sign. Her first day must've gone well. I'll ask her about it when I'm home.

When 5PM finally does roll around, I make my way back to the apartment. I park, walk into the building and make my way to the third floor. When I swing open the door, I'm greeted immediately and Wendy starts talking enthusiastically about how her day went.

"Do you like your teacher?" I ask once she pauses.

"Yeah, he's nice!" she exclaims.

"Good," I smile.

Looking back on Ms. Choksondik and Mr. Garrison, it's obvious that when I was a kid I had the worst teachers. A good teacher makes all the difference.

"I'm going to Token and Nic's again tonight," Bebe mentions. "You should come along this time. Bring Wendy. Everyone wants to see her."

I let out a soft sigh. "All right," I relent.

* * *

We take Bebe's car and drive to the richest part of town. Token and Nichole's house is the opposite of mine. It's very large and lavish and there are quite a lot of people here. I compliment them and their décor and they say how great it is to see me out and about. They fawn over Wendy for a minute before walking me into the living room, where Clyde, Red, Cartman and Kenny.

Cartman is still fat. That doesn't surprise me. Kenny turned into a bit of a pretty boy, but in a scruffy sort of way. He has a permanent grin on his face as he nods along to whatever it is Clyde is telling him. He looks really happy. Once he spots me, his smile widens and he waves. I hold Wendy to my chest and I can tell she's getting tired so I tell myself I won't stay long. I'm only here to make Bebe happy. I approach him slowly and my heart beats faster with each step. I don't quite know why. Maybe it's just because it's been so damn long.

"Stan," Kenny says my name. "It's really great to see you, man. You look good." I know he's probably lying, but the compliment is nice nonetheless. I have bags under my eyes. They've been there for a long time because I don't get much sleep these days.

"You as well," I say with a polite smile. I'm not being genuine. I spite him almost as much as I spite Kyle. Nonetheless, none of them notice how distraught I am.

"How long has it been?" Kenny asks.

"A long time," I tell him.

"Too fuckin' long," Cartman adds. "What've you been doing, Marsh? Hiding away?"

"Don't swear," I warn softly and Kenny elbows him, nodding towards Wendy, who is half conscious in my arms. I've gotten out of the habit of cursing. It was difficult at first. I often had to catch myself, but now I hardly even swear when I'm talking in my head.

"How old is she now?" he asks with a fond smile.

"She's five."

"Ah, so young," he sighs. "I remember we were already getting into serious trouble at that age."

I force a chuckle, recalling the beginning of the Trent Boyett incident. It's something we were somehow always able to escape from.

A few minutes later, a new face enters the room – a distantly familiar face that makes me palms sweat. He greets everyone with a big smile and I feel like punching him.

Kyle got tall, but he still looks much the same apart from the glasses. Those are new, but he's still got that wild, curly hair and those bright green eyes. I make an effort not to stare at him. Part of me hates Kyle. I hate him because when he was supposed to be there for me he wasn't. He was off at some stupid fraternity, probably partying it up while I was in South Park stressing out finances and raising a baby. The other part of me wants to hug him and admit I missed him.

"Stan Marsh," he calls me out. "Is that you over there?" Christ, he looks smug. He reminds me of a frat boy fresh out of college. The smug hasn't quite worn off yet.

"Broflovski," I greet him tartly.

"Oh!" Wendy suddenly exclaims and Kyle just smiles at her.

"What?" I ask, feeling like I'm left out of the loop.

"That's my teacher!" Wendy informs me.

Well, damn. "How nice," I try not to sound too bitter.

After the rest of the formalities, I don't say much else. I just listen to everyone chattering away happily, talking about "that one time in university" and whatever else. I don't really mind listening. Kenny and Cartman try to keep their insults PG. I guess the constant fighting hasn't changed, either. I'm somewhat relieved that they're still the same people. Kyle sticks to the classics by calling Cartman fat, lard-o, and retarded. Cartman proceeds to call Kyle fruity, Jewrat and homo. Though the insults hold no malice, I can't help but wonder if they hold any truth.

Suddenly, I feel Wendy shift against me. "Daddy, I'm tired," she says groggily, probably wanting nothing more than to be in her bed.

"I know, sweetie," I tell her, playing with her hair as she rests her head against my shoulder. "We can go home now." I stand up and announce my departure.

"So early?"Bebe asks.

"You can stay," I say. "I'll just call a cab."

"Oh, no, no," she insists. "I'll drive us back."

"If you want, I'll take you home," Kyle volunteers, digging his car keys out of his pocket. "I have to wake up at 6 in the morning so I need to turn in early."

"No –" I start to protest, but Bebe cuts me off.

"That works out." She smiles at Kyle and then smiles at me. She knows how much I hate him. She's doing this all on purpose.

"Perfect," Kyle says good-naturedly. He stands up a moment later and we bid everyone a goodbye for now. As we leave the house, I notice that Kyle is now taller than me. I only reach his nose. Funny, he used to be the smallest. I guess things change.

Kyle's car is red – red like his hair. He gets in the driver's seat, while I get into the passenger's seat and Wendy sits in between us. I give Kyle the directions to my house as he pulls out of the driveway. "So, what've you been up to these past few years?" he asks, lazily gripping the steering wheel like he's a well-seasoned driver.

"I've been working mostly," I say somewhat tartly. "I'm a secretary for the law firm your father works for."

"Oh, wow," he grins. "That's neat."

"Yeah," I murmur.

"Hey," he starts solemnly, frowning. "I'm really sorry I haven't been around. You needed a friend and I wasn't there."

"Tsk," I click my tongue. "Don't do this now… You're years late. If you cared at all about me, you would have apologized a long time ago." His grip on the steering wheel tightens and he knows I'm right. "I'm fine," I tell him. "I've moved on."

"Really, Stan?" he asks.

"Really, Broflovski."

"If you say so," he mumbles, as if he doesn't believe me.

"I've talked about it so much," I say. "It isn't something that will ever be easy to talk about, so it's pointless to keep doing it."

"All right," he nods, dropping it for now and changing the subject. "I want us to be friends again. I really missed you."

"We can't pick up where we left off," I tell him, knowing that it's impossible. We soon pull into the parking lot of the apartment building and Kyle pulls up in front of the lobby doors.

"Yeah," he shrugs, "but maybe that's okay."

I just roll my eyes at him, not bothering to ask what he's hinting at.

"See you around, Stan," he says.

I open the car door and get out before helping Wendy. I pick her up and turn around, entering the building. We ring ourselves in and go up to our apartment, where we kick off our shoes and get ready to end the day. We brush our teeth in the sink and Wendy drools out half the toothpaste in her mouth. I chuckle, wiping her chin. She smiles a tired smile and hurries into her room. I retreat to my own room and shrug out of my clothing before putting on a pair of pajama pants and an old shirt. Before going to sleep, I check on Wendy, making sure she's in bed. "Goodnight," I whisper.

**3.**

The following morning, Bebe wakes me up. I never should have given her the key to my apartment. "No," I moan. "I actually slept well for a change."

"Aw," she coos. "I'm sorry, but it's 7:30 and you need to be at work for 9."

I sit up and stretch my arms and legs out in front of me. "How was the rest of your night?" I ask her.

"It was really nice!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together. She begins ranting on about everything else that happened and once she's finished I tell her how fun it all sounds. After that, I get out of bed and she follows me out of the room. "I'll bring Wendy to her grandparents' house after school," she says.

"Great," I say. "Thanks again."

She rolls her eyes. "Stop thanking me, you loser. I've told you a hundred times I don't mind. I love helping you out and I love being around her. I was her mother's best friend."

"Yeah," I murmur gently. "Just know I appreciate it."

"I know that," she says with a smile.

I return the smile before going to shower and then off to work.

* * *

I get off at 5 and make my way to Mr. and Mrs. Testaburger's house to pick Wendy up. They look happy to see me. They've recovered from their daughter's death for the most part, welcoming a grandchild into their lives with open arms.

In the car, Wendy animatedly tells me about what she did today. I smile and express enthusiasm when she sounds excited about something. "It sounds like you had a really fun day!" I tell her afterward.

"I did!" she exclaims happily.

I always get anxious when I pick Wendy up from the Testaburger house. Sometimes she returns home with things that belonged to her mother – old toys and things kept as keepsakes. The first time it happened, she came out holding a ragged doll. "This belonged to Mommy!" she said with the biggest smile and I started to bawl. I felt so bad because she looked so happy and I ruined it, but I couldn't help it. I stood in the doorway of the house crying until Mrs. Testaburger ushered me inside. Once I calmed down sufficiently, I took Wendy home. She was quiet for the ride and when we arrived back I hugged her and I told her I was sorry. I don't think she understood why, though. I don't know if she's old enough to truly understand what being dead means.

**4.**

Since the following day is full of meetings, I get to leave early and finally pick Wendy up from school. I park the car and wait outside the school doors with a bunch of other parents. Everyone is older than me, no surprise. I can't recall the last time I stood in front of this building. It's been a damn long time. It's a place of sweet and sour memories.

Soon, kids start piling through the doors and I spot a familiar redhead walking a string of little children out. It's really is Kyle Broflovski. Damn it!

He smiles good-naturedly as the children disperse towards their parents. He's still pleasantly unaware of exactly how much he screwed me over. "Hey, Stan," he greets, walking beside Wendy.

"Broflovski," I say, giving him a sugary sweet smile in return.

He looks mildly taken aback, probably sensing the cynicism in my voice. Good. Nonetheless, that doesn't sway him. "It's good to see you again…" he says.

"Oh, you too," I tell him in the same insincere tone. Wendy is oblivious to my rudeness as she takes my hand.

He lets out a sigh, following me and Wendy as I lead her towards the parking lot. "What did I do, Stan?" he asks.

I let out a quiet scoff. "Are you really asking me that?"

"Yeah, because I'm honestly confused," he admits. "I apologized, Stan. I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry, but I can't change what I did." Hell, what a guy! How can he be so damn selfish?

I open the car door, helping Wendy inside and putting on her seatbelt before closing the door.

"Stan…" Kyle says my name again. "Talk to me."

"What?" I hiss, spinning around and looking at him. "Are you joking? We're not friends anymore, okay? So don't tell me what to do."

"Why are you being so moody?" he asks. "Jesus Christ, I'm trying to do the right thing here, but you won't let me."

"My wife died!" I raise my voice at him. "I watched her bleed to death giving birth to our baby! I… I watched her…" I begin hyperventilate as the once buried memory makes its way to the surface of my mind. I rub my sticky palms over my face and through my hair, wide eyed as the scene replays. "No…" I murmur to myself as I'm once again forced to watch her die. "No… No. No. No. No…"

"_Stan_?"

"No. No. No…" I keep repeating, squeezing my eyes shut.

"_Stan_!"

"No… no, no, no…" I keep saying. My voice gets weaker and weaker and suddenly I feel someone smack me across the face.

"_STANLEY RANDAL MARSH_!"

I open my eyes and Kyle is standing in front of me looking concerned and scared. "Did you just slap me?" I ask.

"You wouldn't listen…" he reasons. "Sorry."

I can't help but laugh, but the laughs turn into sobs. "Oh, God…" I whisper weakly.

Kyle lets out a sigh. Now he just looks irritated and if I wasn't so distraught, I'd probably get angry at him for it. "Fucking hell, Stan…" he murmurs, pulling me into his chest and giving me a few wary slaps on the back.

"I needed you," I admit quietly. "I needed you and you weren't there…"

"I'm sorry… I'm really fucking sorry," he says, sounding genuine. "Hey, uh, your daughter is watching us through the window. You're going to have some explaining to do."

I let out another laugh that sounds just as miserable. "Shit," I mutter, moving away from him. Without another word, I walk to the other side of my car and get into the driver's seat.

"Dad?" Wendy immediately says in a timid tone. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm just a little upset," I tell her.

"Why?" she asks.

"I was friends with your teacher when I was younger," I tell her, pulling out of the parking lot. "We had a fight a while back."

"Why don't you fix it?" she asks childishly.

"Maybe," I say.

"Do you miss him?"

"Maybe," I say again.

"I like him!" she declares. "He's pretty and nice!"

I chuckle at that. I wouldn't exactly call Kyle Broflovski _pretty_, but he's definitely handsome. He grew up well.

* * *

After supper, Bebe comes over. She doesn't bother announcing her presence and I nearly pee my pants when she strides into the living room. "Howdy!" she waves as Kyle saunters in after her. "Look who I ran into."

"Hey," I greet them both. "We're watching _My Neighbour Totoro_." For Wendy's sake, I'll be civil. I guess it's easier than holding an old grudge against someone I used to care so much about. If he's trying, I should try, too.

"Aw!" Bebe exclaims. "I love this movie!" She sits on the sofa next to me and Wendy before patting the small space beside her. "Come sit, Kyle."

He squeezes in beside her and the four of us watch the rest of the movie. It's one of Wendy's favourites. Afterward, Wendy drags Bebe into her room to play dolls, leaving me and Kyle alone. We are quiet and the silence is awkward, but I'm at a loss for words.

"I called Bebe," he murmurs. "We didn't actually magically run into one another."

"I had assumed as much," I tell him.

"I wanted to see you again," he explains. "I was going to ask for your number, since you ran off before I could ask for it… but she told me to come over instead."

"How nice," I say.

He chuckles and adds, "I don't know if you're being genuine or if you're being condescending."

"I'm being genuine," I promise him. "I'm glad you're here. It's always nice to see old friends." I reach for the remote and turn the television off.

"I still feel like you're being cynical…" he murmurs. "You're pretty good at being a cynic."

I roll my eyes.

"Kenny is making eyes at Bebe," Kyle changes the subject.

"I'm not surprised," I say with a laugh. "She's gorgeous." Kyle nods and I ask, "Are you okay with it?"

He nods again. "Our romance was never rekindled after…" he trails off. "So, are _you_ going to be okay with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I wonder.

"You seem closer with her," he notes and I know exactly what he's hinting at.

"We're best friends," I say. "It's strange how it happened… The circumstances were hardly pleasant. She was my wife's best friend… We kind of pushed everyone away except each other because we knew most other people wouldn't understand what we were going through. In turn, we ended up growing closer. But that's all it is. It's purely platonic. We kiss on special occasions, but it's never been anything more than just that. It would be so wrong…" I can't even explain how disastrous it would be for me and Bebe to have become an item.

"Yeah," Kyle agrees softly.

"Yeah," I repeat him.

"You've changed a lot," he notes.

"For the worst?" I wonder aloud.

He shakes his head. "You're just quieter… but it's a sad kind of quiet, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," I murmur.

He offers me a sympathetic smile before grabbing my face and kissing the top of my head. I just smile at him in return. He was always particularly affectionate – especially with me. I guess it came with the territory of being best friends.

"I fuckin' love you," he says, still holding my face. "I always have. That hasn't changed, okay?"

"Okay," I chuckle, putting my hands over his. "I guess I still love you, too." I haven't said that to anyone apart from my daughter and Bebe in a damn long time. I don't even say it to be my parents anymore. I probably should. They deserve to hear it. I suppose love doesn't just go away, no matter how much time has passed. Maybe that's why I'm still mourning and maybe that's why I've been so angry at Kyle for leaving me alone.

**5.**

It's the weekend now and I don't work weekends. I've been talking to Kyle more. He's here right now. I think Wendy likes that. She's awfully fond of him.

He stays for dinner and announces his departure afterward. He waves to Wendy and I walk him to the door.

"Ah…" Kyle rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Okay, look…" he starts, "This might sound like a strange request coming from a guy, and even more so coming from me, but do you want to go out?"

I'm taken aback. "What?" I ask.

"Don't answer me now," he says. "Think about it."

If I answer him now it would be a NO. If I answer him tomorrow, it will still probably be a no. I don't know what giving it some time is going to do, but I'll humour his intentions. "Fine," I murmur. I guess there actually is some truth to Cartman's insults.

He nods, slipping into his shoes and saying, "See you."

Once he's gone, I close the door and walk back into the kitchen to clean up. It's nearing 6. That means Bebe will probably be on her way over sometimes soon. She's here most nights. When she does show up, she looks very giddy and excited. "What are you on?" I ask jokingly.

"I have a date with Kenny," Bebe reveals, grinning.

"Congratulations," I chuckle. "Oddly enough, I got asked out as well…"

Her jaw drops and she frantically asks, "By who? Did you say yes?"

"Strangely… It was Kyle," I start. "I didn't say anything yet. Kyle told me to think about it."

"Wendy would want you to be happy," Bebe says gently, "even if that meant moving on and being with someone else. Your wife and your daughter both want you to be happy, Stan."

"I know," I admit. "It's just hard…"

"Say yes," Bebe urges. "I'll babysit Wendy for the whole night."

I scoff lightly. "I won't need you to stay all night… I don't have sex on the first date."

She laughs loudly. "Honey, everyone says that but everyone does it at some point. You might surprise yourself. You might get caught in the heat of the moment and want Kyle to fuck you silly. There's no shame in it." Fuck me silly…? I grimace at the possibility. I am pretty sexually frustrated these days... "Don't reject him just because he's a man," she continues sagely. "You don't date the gender; you date the person within all that. Gender doesn't matter. Trust me. If you choose who to date based on that, you might be denying yourself something that would make you incredibly fucking happy."

"You think?" I wonder.

She nods. "I _know_."

"Isn't this against the friend code or whatever?" I ask lightly. "I'm dating your ex…"

"Like I care!" She rolls her eyes. "Kyle is sweet. He is generous and gentle in the sack. He really knows how to make someone feel special."

I pale slightly. "Great to know…"

"Give him a chance," she says. "The love you feel for him now might turn into a different kind of love."

I wrinkle my nose at the idea of it.

"Haven't you ever experimented with a guy friend before?" she asks.

"I used my hand on a guy once," I reveal, shrugging my shoulders, "but he wasn't a friend."

Bebe chuckles at that. "Seriously?"

I nod shamelessly. "Weird, huh?"

"Yeah, unexpected," she admits. "How come I never heard about this before?"

"Well, I was drunk as hell," I add.

She smiles lecherously. "How'd it happen?"

I shake my head at her, but I can't help laughing. "I went to a bar and ordered a drink. A guy sat down beside me and we chatted. We both ended up getting pretty drunk. Since I was horny and lonely, we got each other off in the bathroom. Classy, eh?"

"A true tale of romance," she snorts. "Hand or mouth?"

"I used my hand on him, he used his mouth on me…" I murmur. "I ended up getting an STD test that week because I got worried. It was pretty impulsive. I mean, I had just met the guy and then his mouth was on my dick."

"Yeah," she says with a sigh. "Spontaneous sex can be fun as long as you know you're safe… I take it you didn't get crabs or anything, huh?"

"Nah, I was fine," I say.

"You and Kyle would make a really pretty couple," she says offhandedly, sighing with satisfaction. "He's so tall and handsome. You're so cute and little." She pinches one of my cheeks.

"Taller than you," I say. I'm 5 foot 6 inches. That's not bad.

"I'm a dainty girl," Bebe simpers before adding, "Give him a chance. You never know what could happen. Someday, maybe Wendy will have two daddies."

"Okay, no," I shake my head. "You're getting way too ahead of yourself."

She giggles. "Probably… but I have a good feeling about this, Stan. So, go out with him."

"I'll think about it," I say. Bebe's words have been pretty convincing. Maybe something good will come out of it after all.

* * *

The following day is Sunday, so I call Kyle and tell him I'll go out with him. We arrange a dinner date for this coming Friday. I think Bebe is even more excited than I am about this.

"Oh, God," she practically moans. "You guys are going to be so perfect."

"Bebe, stop," I snort. "You're creeping me out."

She smirks. "I'm psyched enough for the both of us, because you hardly ever express yourself."

"That's not true," I protest.

She shrugs. "I guess you cry a lot."

I wrinkle my nose. I suppose that part is true. "I'm allowed to."

"Of course," she says, patting my arm. "Better out than in."

Better out than in. I guess she's right about that, but I'm still not sure if I'm ready to be with someone – especially someone who left me alone for so long. "I still feel bitter," I admit.

She shrugs. "Maybe that's another reason it's good you're doing this. Get to know Kyle again."

"I suppose so," I agree.

Come Friday, we'll see.


	2. Out of mind

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

**Thanks for nice reviews and such! Enjoy the final piece. **

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**6.**

It's Friday now. I wake up and take a shower. I wash my body with soap. I wash my hair with shampoo. I shave my face. I put on a nice suit and in the kitchen, Bebe is cooking.

"Hey," I greet.

"Good morning, babe," she sings. "I'm making breakfast and I packed you and Wendy lunches."

"You're the best," I tell her.

"I know," she smirks playfully.

"How was your date with Kenny?" I ask.

"It was wonderful!" she gushes. "But I'll spare you all the naughty details. Just trust me when I say I had a nice time." She winks at me and I don't need her to say anything more to understand what she means by that.

"Awesome," I say with a laugh.

"So, speaking of dates," she starts, "You've got yours with Kyle tonight, huh?"

I nod. "So weird…"

"It's not that weird," she shrugs, but I just wrinkle my nose in response and a moment later, Wendy enters the room. "Good morning," she says, seeming in good spirits. I always admire children and their ability to get up early without feeling like road-kill.

Bebe smiles at me. "Look, I'll prepare to stay the night, 'kay? If you end up back here, we'll all have a sleepover. If not, then me and Wendy will have our own little sleepover. She'll like it either way."

"I like sleepovers!" Wendy adds somewhat offhandedly as she eats the food Bebe lays out for her.

I let out a sigh and smile warily. "All right, sounds good."

Once we're all done eating, we make our way to the elementary school to drop Wendy off. I spot Kyle on the playground, monitoring the children, but he doesn't spot us. He's in work mode. "Bye, Dad!" Wendy calls as she hops out of the car. "Bye, Bebe!"

"Bye!" me and Bebe call to her in unison as we watch her join the other children on the playground.

"People probably think we're a married couple," Bebe laughs.

I snicker at that. "Sometimes I think we may as well be." I let out a sigh as we leave the parking lot. "I worry about her. All the damn time."

"That's understandable," Bebe says with a laugh. "She's your little girl… but I wouldn't worry too much. You're raising her the right way."

"Am I?" I wonder.

She nods. "You're raising her to be her own person. Her mama would've been so damn proud."

**7.**

After work, Bebe is helping Wendy with her homework. "Better go get ready, Mister Man," Bebe says to me. "Only one hour until your big date."

Wendy is oblivious to what Bebe is saying. She's wearing a look of concentrating as she stares down at her paper and practises drawing letters.

"Right," I say with a sigh. I set my bag down and turn into my room, picking something nice to wear.

Before I leave, I make sure I'm ready – in body and mind – for where the night might lead. Sex with Kyle. Of course, he picks me up. At exactly 6PM, he calls me and tells me he's here. I bid Bebe and Wendy a goodbye and exit my apartment, taking my time. When I reach the lobby, I begin to get nervous. What am I doing? Do I really want this? I don't know. Really, I don't. Nonetheless, I can't cancel now. So, I force myself to calm down as I exit the glass doors. Kyle is parked out front and when I get into the passenger seat, he smiles and greets me with a simple, "Hey."

"Hey," I return. Fleetwood Mac is playing on the radio and Kyle hums along with Stevie Nicks as she sings about the Seven Wonders of the World. Neither of us say a word to one another. The drive is short, fortunately. He made reservations at a pretty spiffy restaurant.

"Wow, classy place," I comment as we walk inside. It's a good thing I dressed up. A waiter leads us to a table in a far corner of the room. I sit down and Kyle sits across from me.

"You okay?" he asks, staring at me.

I nod. "I'm completely fine," I say, though I'm still not sure how I feel.

"You seem tense," he notices.

"I'm trying not to be," I admit.

He smiles slightly. "It's fine. Just try to relax. It's just me here."

He's right… It's just Kyle – my old best friend. Kyle, who I used to have sleepovers with. Kyle, who has seen the best and worst of me.

We order and the rest of the dinner goes by smoothly. Kyle talks a lot about university and he fills me in on what Kenny and Cartman have been up to as well. He talks about his work. He even talks about the fucking weather at one point, while I'm just sitting here nodding my head. I don't have any stories to tell him about exciting things that happened in university because I never went. I've been here the entire time, raising a baby. I guess I've had my own share of excitement because of it, but it's not the kind of thing I can put into words. Being a parent is like that. I can't really explain it.

Parts of it still hurt to think about. The bad things are still burned in my mind and, though I wish it wasn't so, it's hard to erase such vivid memories. While Kyle talks, I can feel my gut twist around. I'm spacing out, but I'm trying to stay engaged. My mind is wandering again. Always wandering.

After dinner, Kyle pays and we exit through the fancy, glass doors. I walk ahead and when we near his car, Kyle lets out an audible sigh, placing a hand on my shoulder and forcing me to turn around to look at him. "Stan… you've been rigid all damn night," he mentions. "Are you still pissed off at me?"

"I can't help it," I murmur. "I know you might find it annoying… but I loved her. I fucking loved her. She was my wife and she died and none of you stayed. I mean, I get it. You hate surrounding yourself with negativity. You've told me it time and time again. This isn't the first time you've fucked off because I felt too sad to function."

He looks guilty. "I know," he says quietly, "and I'm sorry. I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to be patient and understanding."

I nod lifelessly, but I don't feel the need to cry. I guess one emotional breakdown in front of Kyle was enough.

"Do you still love her?" he asks.

"I always will," I admit, "but she's gone. It's time to move on. I'm trying."

"Okay," Kyle says gently, giving my shoulder a squeeze before finally letting his hand fall. "You should come over. I'll show you my place and then we can talk more if you want."

"All right," I accept.

We get into his car and on the ride to Kyle's house, he's once again humming along to the radio. Soon, we pull into an apartment parking lot. It's a set of new buildings that weren't around when we were kids.

Silently, he parks and we enter the building, climbing up to the second floor. His apartment is nice, in a minimalist kind of way. There isn't much to it and it's pretty simple. "I'll give you the grand tour," he says as he shows me around. There is a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom and the rest is open space. There's a sofa in the center of the room with a glass coffee table and a television built into the book shelves. Ah, the books… Kyle has many of them. I would expect nothing less. From what I see, there's fiction and nonfiction, novels and textbooks. He's always been a reader.

"Lots of books," I note and he chuckles.

"Want a glass of wine or something?" he offers.

"Sure," I say before taking a seat on the sofa. I'm worried I'll make a mess of something. It's all so neat and tidy. At my apartment, nothing has its place and everything is childproofed.

Kyle walks into the kitchen and calls, "Red or white wine?"

"White," I call back and he reappears with two glasses, handing me one.

"Thanks," I accept, taking a sip.

He sits down next to me and asks, "So, what else is happening in the life of Stanley Marsh?"

"Not much," I admit. "It's a bit of a cycle now, but I've gotten used to it and to be honest, it's comforting. I'm not a fan of surprises. They can be unpleasant."

"Yeah," he softly agrees and it's quiet. "So, uh..."

"It's okay, Kyle," I tell him. "We don't always have to talk. Don't you remember when we were young? We would go hours, side by side, not saying a word. We didn't need to always be talking. We were kind of connected. I knew what you were feeling and you knew what I was feeling. Maybe that went away. It's been a long time, but maybe we can get back to that point eventually."

"Yeah," he says again. "I'd really fuckin' like that."

I smile slightly. "Me, too." I set my the nearly-empty wine glass down and stare at him for a moment before leaning forward. "I'm going to try something, okay?"

"Okay," he says.

I press my lips to his – it's brief and quick, but I wanted to try it. I wanted to see what it would be like to kiss Kyle. "You have soft lips," I tell him.

He smiles at that and we both lean forward again. This time, the kiss is different. "Hey…" he murmurs once we part. "Do you wanna…?" he trails off, nodding towards his bedroom door.

Suddenly, my throat feel dry and I feel warm. Rather than speaking, I simply nod. He holds out his hand, offering it to me and once I accept it, he leads me into his room. As we step inside, he flicks the lights on. I don't tell him to turn them back off, since I don't want to sound shy and childish. Part of me is nervous, but I'm not sure why, but I just remind myself that this is Kyle. Kyle, who likes me and wants me. I guess this means I like and want him, too.

Gently, he pushes me onto his mattress, hovering over me and leaning forward. "It's okay, right?" he asks, murmuring the words into my mouth.

"Of course," I say quietly and he touches his lips to mine. I run my hand up his back beneath his shirt and when we break apart I take it off. I stare at his abdomen, touching the skin stretched over his muscles. "I don't usually do this kind of thing," I admit, glancing up at him. Least of all with guys, but I won't mention that part. My track record with men is very limited.

"Fuck on the first date?" he asks, drawing back.

"Yeah," I say, sitting up. To be frank, I've never done it before, but I won't mention that either. My sexual experiences are few and far between these days. In all honesty, I've only ever slept with Wendy. So, this is new in more ways than one.

"Does that make me special, then?" he asks lightly.

"Sure," I say with a laugh. I raise my arms as he tugs off my t-shirt and I reach for his belt.

Once we're both bare, he bends down again and our bodies are pressed together – skin on skin – as he kisses me again. He's warm. All over. I guess I understand now what Bebe was saying – Kyle really does know how to make someone feel special.

Once we part, I can tell it's time for the pièce de résistance.

He reaches over me and towards his nightstand, taking a condom and rolling it on with ease. I stare at the parts of him I never imagined I'd get to see or _want_ to see, but here I am wanting more. I grab my knees and pull my legs to my chest, feeling shy about baring this much of my physical being. Next, he grabs a bottle of something and pours a generous amount on my ass. I feel myself clench at the sensation.

"Go slow," I request softly.

He smiles gently and nods. He's careful. My breath comes in shallow and I can't help but curl my toes. "Feels good…" I say quietly and run my hands up and down his abdomen. He's panting and his eyebrows are drawn together. With one hand, he grabs the headboard, steadying himself as he moves rhythmically. With the other, he touches me.

"Kyle…" I murmur.

"Stan…"

"Kyle…" I repeat breathlessly, arching my back. It feels strange being so exposed, but it's okay because it's Kyle.

It's Kyle.

It's Kyle, it's Kyle, it's Kyle.

**8.**

In the morning, we wake up wrapped together, our tired limbs tangled. We're lying on his mattress wrapped in a duvet. He's got an arm over my chest, pinning me in place. For a while, I don't move. I just lie here and think about what happened last night. I think about that and I think about how it might affect me from here on. Now that Kyle has had me, will he want me again? Or is this it? Either way, I guess it was fun… but I _would_ like to see him again. I think I realized that when he was inside of me. I _do _want him. What a revelation.

I don't know how long I'm thinking about these things, but Kyle soon shifts against me and when I turn my head, he's staring at me. "Good morning," I say.

"G'morning," he murmurs in a voice laced in fatigue. He removes his arm and rolls onto his back, closing his eyes again.

"Not a morning person, huh?" I ask.

He smiles slightly, but doesn't answer. I sit up and glance at the digital clock on his nightstand. It's only 7AM. It's still pretty early, no wonder he's groggy. I guess I'm so used to waking up early. It's that internal clock. Oh, well. Maybe it'll be nice to sleep in. That's what weekends are for. Bebe is with Wendy, so I can relax for a little while longer. I get comfortable again and close my eyes.

The next time I open them, I'm alone in Kyle's bed. I sit up and scan the room, looking for a sign of life. "Hm…" I murmur to myself, getting up and leaving the room. "Kyle…?"

He pops out of the kitchen a moment later. "Ah, you're awake," he smiles. He's already dressed in a pair of khakis and an argyle sweater. Apart from the glasses, he looks very much himself. I still can't get used to seeing him wear them.

"Yeah," I say, still stark nude. "Could I use your shower?"

"Yeah, go ahead," he nods. "Towels are in the cupboard. I'm making food, so when you're done come into the kitchen and have a bite to eat, okay?"

"Okay." I leave the room and stroll into the bathroom, turning the taps on. As I wait for the water to get hot, I stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. I haven't really looked at myself in a long time. I look tired. Hell, I guess I feel it, too. I think I've forgotten about it, though. It's almost become a part of my personality. Stan Marsh, always tired.

I turn away from myself, getting in the shower a moment later. I wash myself and use Kyle's shampoo. It smells like mint.

When I'm finished, I take a towel from the cupboard and dry off before wrapping it around my waste and returning to Kyle's room to get redressed. After that, I meet him back in the kitchen, where we eat and talk about morning things – the weather, work, the local news. Around eleven, I tell him I ought to go home and relieve Bebe from her post as babysitter. Kyle drives me home. We kiss in the car and then we part ways.

When I arrive to my apartment I swing open the door and Bebe is full of questions. Naturally. "So," she smirks, "how was it?"

"He, um," I pause, searching for a word that's vague enough. "He was a gentleman."

"Oh, I'm sure," she says, a perverted gleam in her eyes.

"How was _what_?" Wendy asks from her seat on the sofa. Her eyes are glued to the television screen, but clearly it doesn't have her complete attention.

"I went out with Kyle last night," I tell her.

"Mr. Broflovski? My teacher?" she wonders.

"Yeah," I say. I sit down next to her and she looks up at me with a curious expression.

"What did you do together?"

"We had dinner," I say. "Then we had a sleepover."

"Oh," she smiles before turning her gaze back towards the TV screen. "Do you like him again?"

"Yeah, I do," I tell her, not quite sure if she understands how much.

**9.**

Kyle has become something constant in my life for the first time since we were teenagers. It feels pretty good. Right now, we're squeezed together on the recliner in my living room. The television is on, but we're not paying attention. I've got my legs draped over his knees and we're quietly talking – not really about anything particularly important, but that's okay.

Bebe is coming over with Kenny and Cartman tonight. Me and Kyle are cooking dinner. It should be interesting, to say the least, but I think I'm looking forward to getting to know my old friends again.

Wendy is on the sofa, flicking through channels and trying to find something to watch. I haven't yet told her what Kyle is to me, but I think she understands nonetheless. According to her, Kyle is my "prince". I thought that was cute.

"Are your eyes bad?" I wonder, reaching forward and removing Kyle's glasses. I hold them in front of me and stare into the lenses. "Eesh…"

Kyle chuckles. "Yeah, I know." He's squinting, so I give them back and smile sheepishly.

From her seat on the sofa, Wendy turns and stares at us critically. "Do you kiss like in fairy tales?" she asks.

"Yeah," Kyle tells her with a little chuckle. "Just like in fairy tales."

She giggles at that.

**10.**

This is it. Things change. People change. People come. People go. We move forward. We're _always_ moving forward. Kyle knows this, Bebe knows this and I know it, too. It's a lesson we've all learned in similar and different ways. It's a lesson we'll keep learning. It's a lesson that Wendy will learn someday, too. When that day comes, I want to be there to tell her it will be okay, even if she doubts it. Because, though people come and go, time heals. Sometimes it takes a little while; sometimes it takes a long time. Nonetheless, it's true. Time does heal you. I'm not saying I'm okay. I'm not saying I'm fine, but I _am_ saying that I will be. I can already feel it happening. Each new morning, I wake up feeling a little lighter. I welcome it. I welcome it with Wendy, with Bebe and with Kyle, too.

I can breathe easier now.

I can breathe.


End file.
